First rule of battle

First rule of battle is DRESS APPROPRIATELY i.e. not like me when I turned up to help Kamikaze Karen (KK for now, she is dangerously close to making it a triple situation). Instead of donning sleek black fabrics like The Dark Knight of Efficiency I opted for a casually thrown-together set of pastel shades. Nothing says serious business like a Care Bear.
So, when she fixed me with her black eyes and her boxy head (yes, it’s entirely likely that Darth Vader is her distant cousin) I didn’t have so much as a light saber to swish when she told me to “eff-off and find someone else to be helpy-helpy with”. And as if she hadn’t been rude forward slash, patronising enough, she dispatched me back to reception with orders to stop clashing with the soft furnishings.

I was in a fix.

My boss had given me orders and I was unable to carry them out.

“Do it anyway. Use your initiative,” barked Cream Horn, “And what’s with the pastels, you look like My Little Pony.”